*********************************************************************************************************The hardest thing about potion management was actually the inventory system itself. Normally one could open their inventory and be presented a screen overlay that you could scroll through and use like a touch screen. But, of course, there was a problem when it came to usability in combat. Movement of hand and arm operated the menu, so it was pretty much impossible to use during intense moments of frantic movement.
No, instead there was a quick inventory system in place that relied on thought to function. One merely had to think of the item and reach into your side inventory pouch to produce whatever you desired. But there was one major caveat to it: you had to think of the name exactly as it was stated.
For example, if you thought of a Small Potion of Regenerate Wounds, which you didn't have, but you had actually meant to recall Major Potion of Regeneration, your attempt would "fizzle", stunning your character for a fraction of a second as you grasped for nothing.
Meliadol didn't have extensive knowledge of the potions in his inventory. Today, after Bast had asked him specifically to buy some in preparation for the dungeon, was the first time he had even used his inventory mid-battle. He kept thinking of the wrong names, or even messing them up with potions that didn't even exist!
It was one thing to study something calmly, and it was another to be expected to recall it perfectly in the middle of trying not to die to undead! Half of his time during the pull was spent trying to frantically dodge attacks while shuffling through his inventory.
So it was by some small miracle that he managed to stay alive up until the second pull of the inner throne room. Of course, this miracle was achieved through much panic, close calls, and struggle on his end; but it was here, against the most dangerous of the Headless Knight's personal guard, that he died again.
It had happened in an instant. The slightest hiccup in the rhythm of his flight and the well-armored undead cut him down.
Death was different in a dungeon. He could move around as a specter and watch the fight, but could not interact in chat. He had to wait there until either the rest of his party fell, they defeated the dungeon, or he was resurrected. Since they had no healer, the latter wasn't happening.
So he was forced to watch as his party struggled without him there to gather the mobs up. They didn't have room for mistakes, but each member was skilled enough to manage. Now that his concentration wasn't focused on keeping himself alive, Meliadol could now see the finesse and knowledge that Bast, B.D, and Darlia possessed. Almost like playing a game of hot-potato, the three juggled aggro expertly, allowing the previous target's regeneration potions time to work.
Never was one in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Area-of-effect attacks (AOEs) were handled with a timely crowd-control(CC) effect such as a stun or knockup to interrupt them. Darlia weaved in and out of battle, funneling the foes into the range of Bast's AOE CCs, and B.D was always there, shooting away with a relentlessness that matched his fiery demeanor. One by one, with the inevitably of the setting sun, the enemies fell, which in turn made it deadlier for those that remained.
It was like watching a dance.
Meliadol was now acutely aware of the gulf between himself and his party members. Not that there was doubt before, but to see it on such blatant display before him…
Like a pail of water, a screen flash up across his vision:
Congratulations for clearing the Challenge of the Headless Knight Halloween Event!
Time: 31:02:11
Reward: 34 Golden Bone chips
The cheery words were bitter to Meliadol's eyes, and he accepted the free end-of-dungeon resurrection without delay, appearing in a flash of light before the rest of his party. The time was slightly better, but he had died again. With another DPS, the time should have been vastly improved, but it was his death that slowed everything down…again.
Meliadol ran through what he wanted to say to his group, to explain his mistake, but it all sounded pathetic in his head. In particular, he could feel B.D silent accusation. You should have let me pull! it said, and what right did he have to say anything to the contrary? He had seen their skill, and he knew the vast disparity between them. The gunslinger would have done it without dying.
Head down, he prepared himself for their harsh criticism.
"Hey, not bad! Good job everyone. Let's head to the entrance to reset!" Bast spoke first, his cheery voice making Meliadol look up with surprise.
No accusatory glares, no obvious disdain. At worst, their stances were ambivalent. Everyone was already walking back to the entrance, forcing Meliadol to hurry to catch up. "Wait, that's it?" Meliadol spoke up, disbelief plain, "You're not gonna give me shit about this?"
Darlia's face was neutral as usual, and B.D gave a shrug in answer. Instead it was Bast that stopped, indicating for the other two to keep going. The berserker turned to Meliadol after the two were far enough away. "What do you mean, Mel?"
"I died!" Meliadol exclaimed, as if it should be obvious, "We could have gotten a much better time had I not fucked up with my potions!"
Bast chuckled at his words, infuriating Meliadol more, "Why would we bother you about such a small thing?" The berserker asked, as if it was common sense, "This event comes every year. No one here is really attending 'cause they need any of the rewards. They're here for you."
"What?" Meliadol understood Bast's words, but couldn't believe it, "Why would any of you do something for someone you barely know?"
Bast shook his head, "You still don't get it? This is an MMO. It's meant to be played with others. Why would we help you? On whim perhaps? Or maybe, like Auri, it's because they like helping newbies? Or maybe they're like Darlia and do it for a friend (me)? Or maybe they're like B.D and do it to show off skills they had spent years honing? Does it matter why they're here, helping you?"
Meliadol mulled over Bast's words, unable to find anything wrong with the analysis.
"Still," he finally said after a long moment, "I feel guilty for my misplay. It was my mess up. I just don't get why the inventory system is so ass backwards. If they can read our thoughts, you'd think the devs would make it user friendly."
"S'not a big deal," Bast gave him a double thumbs up as the two began walking slowly to the entrance to join B.D and Darlia, "We all fuck up from time to time. Just learn from it and get better, ya? And I'm glad the potion system is the way it is. It's an important part of the design that makes this game great."
This caught Meliadol's attention. In what world could this archaic system be considered good? "What do you mean?" He asked, unable to keep the disbelief from his voice.
"I mean, it'll get a bit abstract, but I can give you the basics, if you want."
"Well, I asked, didn't I? I'm actually curious."
The berserker laughed, and, to Meliadol at least, seemed to really be in his element at this moment, "You have to look at it in terms of developer goals. Nevergarden was designed to be more than just a normal MMO. Outside of being the first MMO designed for SYNAPS gear and a virtual setting, the developers have stated their intent, or theme, of the game is one of consequence, right? If you look at the systems in place, you can see this everywhere. From penalty for dying, to factions and bounty hunting, to large emphasis on open PvP areas and no name changes, server transfers, or character alts. Everything is built around the idea that you own what you do, right?"
Meliadol nodded. He had read the developer interviews himself. But what did this have to do with a shitty potion and inventory system?
"Well," Bast continued with a large smile on his face, "part of designing such a game is allowing good players to be good, and bad players to be bad. Do you know what the ideas of 'skill floor' and 'skill ceiling' is?"
He shook his head. These were new terms to him.
"Ah, well, skill floor is the minimum amount of skill required to perform at a basic level within a game. Skill ceiling is the amount of room, or skill, that a person has to grow within the parameters of a system. If you've heard the adage, 'Easy to pick up, but hard to master', then you know what I'm talking about."
Meliadol was starting to get what the berserker was driving at. "So you're saying is that they added a skillful element to the potions system deliberately? To give people room to grow?"
"Indeed," Bast seemed happy that Meliadol said it himself, "It's simple enough that any idiot can do it. Just think of what you want, reach in your pouch, and bam! It's there. Yet it's not so simple that one can do it in the middle of combat at first. You get flustered, you think of the wrong things. It happens to us all. Yet when you work at it, it suddenly opens up a whole world of options.
Your lowbie potions are generous in terms of weight, but later on, weight becomes a factor, limiting your movement and abilities if you carry too much. So now you're forced to consider how much you carry, what you use, the length of the cooldowns, among a whole slew of other things. Do you carry physical dodge potions with short cooldowns? They're not useful against mages. What about health regen potions? Their short cooldowns match well with sustained damage, but not burst. This is just a infinitesimal window into the system itself that I'm giving you.
What seemed simple, yet slightly aggravating, on the surface, becomes this deep lake of possibilities…if you put the effort in. And it all starts with the idea that you have a clear picture and name in your mind before you even reach into your inventory."
"I see…You seem to have put a lot of thought into this."
Bast gave a noncommittal shrug, "Just give it time. Soon you'll wonder why you were even mad at it. Disparity in skill isn't a bad thing. Bad players see the height of skill and aspire to achieve it. Good players get to show the results of their efforts. This is the basis for any competition and to rewarding gameplay in general."
His words rang with truth to Meliadol. This realm of possibility is what had begun to endear this game to him in the first place. He started thinking about it at work, replaying the fight of Darlia and Dethgargar within his head during lunch. Sometimes, in midst of yet another long day at the office, he began to imagine himself fighting in Darlia's steed. What would he have done different? Slowly, Meliadol was beginning to really look forward to logging in, if to just discover the next thing Nevergarden had to offer.
He wanted to be better.
Let the good show they are good, and the bad show they are bad?
What an interesting thought.
"On another note, I have a question for you, Mel." Bast stopped so abruptly that Meliadol ran into him, almost falling on his ass.
"Uh…what is it?"
"I'll ask once and once only. Are you serious about wanting to participate in the SIN tournament? This isn't a flight of fancy for you?"
Meliadol stared at Bast, "Of course I am! I mean, I know that I don't have a chance…but I want to try."
Bast nodded, as if it was to be expected, "Indeed. Just confirming. Can I make an appeal to that thought then? If it is truly your wish…can you do the level thirty side event instead of the main sixty one?"
"What? Why!?"
"Woah, calm down there." Bast was quick to clarify, "I have a perfectly good reason to my madness, and it has nothing to do with whether or not you, yourself, can do it."
"If not that, then what then?" Meliadol said with a bit more venom than he meant to.
The berserker sighed, crossing his arms, "Well, if you calm down and listen, I'll lay it out for you. There's a certain issue that skill can't solve. That of gear. SIN is six months from now. It is feasible for you to reach max level in that time, but it is absurd to think your gear will be close to matching that of any of the regulars that will attend. That goes double for any legacy gear you might make. You'll be pissing into the wind, do you understand? There will be matches that you will lose before you ever step into the ring, as it were. Let me tell you something, there is nothing as sorry as losing to no fault of your own."
Meliadol opened his mouth to say something mean, but his brain, working quickly, caught up with his mouth. With it hanging open, the reality of Bast's words hit him. He hadn't considered the logistics of actually participating. It was one thing to dream, but one had to have their feet firmly on the ground before they can build castles in the sky.
That was what his father had always said.
He forced himself to calm down. The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. Bast continued his reasoning. "If you pause at the level thirty level range, you'll have time to make your gear competitive, and to learn through PvPing. Preparation, repetition, gear equality, muscle memory, game knowledge, strategy, and tactics. This is the recipe for success in Nevergarden."
Once again, Meliadol had no recourse but bend to Bast's will. It was as if he was a willow within a storm. Would it always be that way? At least this time he saved himself several days of stubbornly dying to skeletons.
"Okay. I'll do it. Will you help me?"
Meliadol's words surprised even himself. It was if his mouth had acted before his brain. And yet, he was at ease, because he found it true. Now that he ran through it in his head, he found he didn't care about the tournament itself…he just wanted to play, to see where he stacked up against others.
"It won't be easy, you know. We'll have to start mixing your training into your leveling."
"Oh? Will that work?"
"Of course. Just trust in your friend, Bast!"
Meliadol gave a wry smile as they approached the exit to the dungeon. Darlia and B.D waited, seeming bored. "My friend, huh?"
"Well, uhhhh…" For the first time, the berserker seemed to scramble for words, "I mean, yeah. Isn't that what we are? Nevergarden isn't something to play alone, you know?"
Meliadol laughed, enjoying the sight of seeing Bast on the ropes for once. Now that he thought about it, this was the first time he had truly laughed in game. It felt good. He hoped to do it more. "No, no. I agree. I will follow what you say. Anyone that leads a guild like I saw has to be doing something right. They seemed happy."
"I'm glad to hear you say that."
"I do have one question though."
Bast looked surprised, "And that is?"
"Why didn't we use party voice chat to coordinate better? It would have allowed me to gauge when to complete the pull." It had been a thought that had occurred to him while he was awaiting a rez.
"Oh that!" Bast waved it away, "Well, you're not wrong. Normally we'd do that…but doing so wouldn't help you grow. Wouldn't give you the experience you needed. Things such as party cohesion, class knowledge, and personal limits. So I told the other two to keep silent. You'd figure it out on your own."
"So you gave me a handicap? Without telling me?"
"Mhmm! And you did remarkably well! Even B.D couldn't bitch! Even when you died! Leave it to ol' Bast!"
"Motherfucker…I take back everything I said. You're a damn tyrant."
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